Transfigured Hearts 13: Good Abrewing
by MrsTater
Summary: A bad batch of Wolfsbane Potion, a row with Sirius, and full moon blues make Remus brood over his upcoming birthday. Worse, Tonks seems unlikely to honor his request to let the day pass quietly. And what does he overhear her whispering about with Snape?
1. Part One

_This story follows **Valentine, Done Well** in the **Transfigured Hearts** series, and is set in March of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. _

* * *

**Part One**

"Moony, you daft prat!" Cornering Remus the instant he set foot in the kitchen, Sirius followed his admonition by whacking him on the shoulder with a rolled up _Evening Prophet._

"What haven't I done now?" Remus asked heavily.

"You didn't tell me your birthday's this week."

Over his mate's shoulder, Remus saw Tonks at the table, quill in hand, sniggering to herself. "How many years have you known me, Padfoot?" he asked.

"How old are we?"

"We met twenty-five years ago."

As the words left his mouth, Remus winced. He had been mates with Sirius for longer than Tonks had been alive. At least if she were paying attention – and she might not be; she was hunched over and intent on something – she did not seem to care. Even so, the thought combined with fatigue and stiff joints to make Remus feel every day – and then some – of his age. Why on earth was Tonks wasting her time going out with him?

"That's a sodding long time," said Sirius.

"Precisely," Remus said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Shouldn't you know my birthday by now without my telling you?"

Sirius' barking laugh rang out as he strode to the table and sat the wrong way on a chair, propping his arms on the back. "Have I ever known anyone's birthday without being told?"

"Only your own."

Remus crossed the room to Tonks, who immediately tilted her pretty face up for a kiss. Despite the previous moment's self-deprecation, he did not hesitate with his affection.

"Wotcher, Remus," Tonks murmured as he drew back.

"Hello." Remus returned her smile. Hand resting on her shoulder, his eyes swept the table, which was littered with scrolls and leather-bound journals. "Scrimgeour loaded you up with paperwork, I see."

Tonks pulled a face. "I thought to get some of it out of the way before our meeting, but Sirius is more entertaining."

"I never got much homework or studying done with Sirius around," said Remus.

"Isn't it nice that some things never change?" Sirius turned in his chair to face them and drummed his fingers on the old oak table. "I've been brainstorming ideas for your birthday present. What d'you want, Remus?"

"Nothing." Remus drew a paper-wrapped parcel from the inner pocket of his robes and set it on the counter. "That's one reason I didn't mention my birthday."

"What d'you mean you don't want presents?" asked Sirius, looking completely baffled. "Tonks, did you get him anything?"

She shot Remus a look of mild annoyance. "No."

He quickly looked away, absorbing himself with opening a cupboard and hunting for a goblet. While Tonks had conceded to his request not to buy him anything, she had done so with great reluctance, which she did not bother to hide whenever the subject of his birthday arose. It wasn't that Remus was opposed to gifts; it was that he was in no position to return the favour as well as set a little aside for the occasional nice date – and he hardly wanted his birthday to become an excuse for Tonks, or others, to buy him things he lacked but had learnt to do without. He was not a charity case.

"Not yet you mean," Sirius said to Tonks. "You can buy my present when you go shopping. Or better yet, you could take your dog Snuffles, who's got a knack for selecting birthday gifts."

Without looking up from her parchment, Tonks replied, "I'll turn you in before I take you out where Lucius Malfoy might see you."

While Remus silently blessed Tonks for having a good head on her shoulders and a firm way with Sirius, he braced himself for his mate's pleas. However, Sirius merely scowled, then appeared to forget the discussion completely as his gaze lit on Remus' parcel.

"What's that?" he asked. "Get yourself a birthday present, Moony? _Accio _parcel."

"Sirius—" was all Remus managed to say before Sirius had ripped away the paper to reveal a dark brown bottle.

"Firewhiskey?"

Tonks shot Remus an arch look, and he actually grinned. "If you drink that, Padfoot, make sure you are looking in my direction. I should like to see your face."

"Wolfsbane Potion?" Tonks gave a snort of laughter.

"Indeed." Remus summoned the bottle from Sirius' slackened grip.

"S'moon week already?" Sirius rose to check the wall calendar.

"You've really got to start paying attention to other people's lives," said Tonks absently.

"And therein lies the other reason I did not mention my birthday," Remus said. "By no means do I want the Order to get wind and throw a party. I simply am not up to celebrating—"

"You're at least doing something with Tonks, aren't you?" Sirius interrupted.

"She's having me over to her flat for dessert."

"_Dessert_." Sirius waggled his eyebrows.

"Yes," said Tonks. "_Cake_."

"Not baked by you, I hope," said Sirius. "Mousse has more erotic possibilities."

"It's not a good idea to harass Aurors who've got the Black temper," Tonks said. "And no, I'm not baking the cake. Molly's sending one."

"Y'know how _we_ ought to celebrate," said Sirius. "Moony and Padfoot should run around the Forbidden Forest."

As Remus emptied the contents of the bottle into the goblet the pungent potion permeated his nostrils, making his stomach turn before he'd even drunk it.

"Please tell me, Sirius," he said, "that you do not honestly think I would transform right under Umbridge's nose."

"Don't get your knickers in a twist." Sirius' dark brows knit in perturbation. "Course I don't. Though, s'dreadfully easy to break out of Azkaban these days…."

"Unfortunately." Tonks glowered at her paperwork, which Remus assumed must detail investigations into the whereabouts of the escaped Death Eaters.

Remus tried not to breathe through his nose as he took the first sip of Wolfsbane, but even a dulled sense of smell could not block out the acrid taste of the potion. Despite his best efforts, he grimaced and choked, counting it a small miracle he swallowed the stuff at all.

"Merlin, Moony!" Sirius' voice reverberated through the kitchen. "Will you _never _get used to the taste?"

Remus, who was doing his utmost not to regurgitate the potion, returned, "Will you _never _stop being a prat?"

In his peripheral he saw Tonks watching intently, features etched with concern.

"I know it's your time of the month," said Sirius, "but don't be narky."

"That joke lost its humour during our second year at Hogwarts," said Remus, rolling his eyes. "And I wouldn't be narky if you wouldn't be an idiot."

Sirius raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. "I was expressing _concern_. It's surprising to see you get dramatic about something like a taste, that's all."

Though slightly chagrined at having misjudged Sirius, the sickening stench of the potion as Remus raised the goblet to his lips again combined with his irritable mood to make him snipe, "Yes well, you should work on not being insensitive when you want people to know you care."

"But insensitive's Sirius' middle name," said Tonks with a wink.

Sirius grinned cheekily and flopped into the chair across from her, propping his feet on the table. Oddly, after Remus choked down another sip of Wolfsbane Potion, he found his perturbation toward Sirius ebbing.

"I suppose," he said, meeting Sirius' grey eyes levelly as he slid into the seat next to Tonks, "asking you not to be insensitive is the equivalent of asking myself not to sprout fur six nights from now."

Sirius' grin widened.

"At risk of sounding insensitive," said Tonks, touching Remus' knee, "does your potion taste as awful as it smells?"

"Worse." He moved the goblet to the opposite side so that she would not smell it as strongly. She frowned deeply, and he squeezed her hand. "A bad taste is a small price to pay for keeping my mind during transformations."

Tonks eyed the goblet suspiciously. "There's nothing you can do to improve it?"

"When Severus brewed it for me," Remus said, "I thought perhaps he added something to make it taste foul, and I even wondered if he were lying about sugar rendering it useless. But of course I did not dare risk it."

"I'm with Harry," said Sirius darkly, "I can't believe Snape never tried to poison you."

"Severus would not poison me," said Remus tolerantly, "but I would not put it past him to make something taste unpleasant." Finishing off the potion, he said, "However, it is not so. This brew from Knockturn Alley is—"

"—far inferior to mine," came Snape's oily tones from the doorway.

Sirius dropped his feet to the floor and twisted around in his chair as all three looked up sharply to see Snape, sneering down his hooked nose. Remus' gaze dropped as he clutched the goblet tightly, lowering it beyond Snape's line of vision.

As mortifying as it was to have been caught by the very person of whom he was speaking ill, Remus was more humiliated by the way Tonks regarded him with round, distressed eyes.

Softly, she asked, "Is it really an inferior brew?"

He could only imagine how Tonks would react if she knew the potion he could afford was not, by any stretch, perfect and that he experienced considerably more pain during transformations than he had during the year he taught at Hogwarts. Thankfully he did not have to answer her, because Sirius was speaking.

"Not that you can see it through that greasy fringe, _Snivellus_," he drawled, "but the Noble and Most Ancient Wall Clock of Black says you're fifteen minutes early for tonight's meeting. So why don't you go back to your dungeon and take a shower?"

A look crossed Snape's features that made Remus think for a moment he would hex Sirius. When Snape refrained from casting a _levicorpus_, Remus was mildly impressed – until Snape could not resist retorting.

"The juvenility of your invectives never ceases to astound me, Black," said Snape. Hard black eyes shifting to Remus, he stepped further into the kitchen. "If you are concerned about being poisoned, Lupin, you should consider buying the Wolfsbane Potion from apothecaries capable of passing my NEWT class."

"I passed your NEWT class with top marks," Tonks chirped.

Her lilting voice sounded out of place amid the tense atmosphere, but Remus welcomed it – though she had set herself up as the next target for Snape's scorn. Remus silently pleaded that Snape would brush her off, as he had done Sirius. But like so many other wishes, that one went ungranted.

"You are fortunate, _Nymphadora_," said Snape in tone that made Remus bristle, "that I did not deduct marks for every phial you broke. If I had done, you would have a less prestigious career."

Tonks eyed the papers strewn around her. "At the moment, I wouldn't mind."

"Speaking of careers, Lupin," said Snape, "obviously you are no more adept with women—"

"Jealous unsexed wanker," muttered Sirius, who, Remus thought, was hardly in the position to scorn other people's nonexistent love lives.

"—than you are at obtaining gainful employment," Snape continued, "or Nymphadora would be supplying you with quality Wolfsbane Potion."

Remus clutched the goblet so tightly he wondered that it did not shatter in his hand. Seldom did he take Snape's insults to heart, but this hit too close to his insecurities. Surely others shared the view that Remus was taking advantage of Tonks.

But Tonks merely said, "Remus isn't a freeloader, Severus."

"What a pity Trelawney did not predict your unfortunate choice of mate," said Snape. "You would be more useful to Lupin as a potion brewer than an Auror – though in considerably more danger."

Sirius' eyes flashed, and his hands balled into fists as he drew in his breath with a sharp hiss. Remarkably, he did not lash back, but looked expectantly to Remus and Tonks.

"You're a student of the Dark Arts," replied Tonks, "so you know werewolves who transform alone, with a week's regimen of Wolfsbane Potion, aren't a danger to anyone."

Remus was amazed by Tonks' calm response to Snape's bait; several months past, a newspaper article that made reference to "werewolf Remus Lupin" had got her in quite a state of agitation. Not only was her demeanour mild, but she did not appear to be seething beneath the surface. Her eyes held a thoughtful expression, as though she were contemplating something else entirely. It put Remus off-balance. What was going on inside that head of vivid pink hair?

Sirius, apparently quite displeased that Tonks was failing to display the Black temper of which she had earlier boasted, pounded the table. "Damn it, Snape! If you really cared about the Order, you'd brew the bloody potion! I can't believe Dumbledore doesn't make you—"

"It seems to escape you, Black," Snape interrupted, "that not every Order member has enough leisure time to be _charitable_."

The last word was directed at Remus and made him cringe.

"Perhaps," Snape went on, "I could find time to brew Wolfsbane Potion if I delegated one of my disagreeable Order duties – such as teaching Occlumency to teenagers who are too arrogant to practice."

On his feet now, Sirius roared, "I WARNED YOU ABOUT GIVING HARRY A HARD TIME!"

Seeing Sirius was reaching for his wand, Remus stood and restrained him with a hand on his shoulder. Glaring, Sirius shrugged him off, but made no further move.

"Harry has not been practicing Occlumency?" Remus asked.

"It hardly comes as a surprise to me," said Snape, "considering the arrogant, shiftless adult influences in his life."

'YOU FILTHY SODDING—!"

"FILTHY BLOOD TRAITORS!" shrieked Mrs. Black from the corridor above.

Remus bolted to help whomever had set off the portraits – the Weasleys, most likely, considering the epithet "blood traitors." As he ascended the staircases, he heard Tonks say, "Severus, could I have a word?"

Glancing back at her, Remus saw her mouth set in a grim line, her dark eyes hard with determination. There was only one thing she could possibly have to discuss with Snape: Wolfsbane Potion. Remus nearly told her no, that he didn't need her to fight this battle, that it _could not _be fought. He refrained. The last thing he wanted to do was rebuke Tonks in front of Snape. And there _was_ a possibility that she had some other business to discuss with him. If Remus jumped to conclusions, what did that say about his respect and trust for her?

Yet that did not stop his stomach from churning as he struggled with Arthur to silence the portrait and keep her quiet as other Order members arrived. When he went back to the kitchen where the meeting would be held, he passed Tonks and Snape in the stairwell.

Though Tonks' back was turned to him, Remus caught snatches of her whispers: "…don't like Remus…make the potion…"

Snape's gaze flicked over the top of Tonks' head, settling coldly on Remus. "The potion is extremely tedious to brew."

"But…" Tonks glanced over her shoulder, and Remus hurried into the kitchen as she dropped her voice. "…time…long run…"

It was positively sickening to hear Tonks pleading with Snape on his behalf, but Remus' insides turned hollow with astonishment when he heard Snape say tersely, "Fine."

Remus stopped dead in his tracks a few paces in the doorway. Fine? Had Snape really said fine, or had one of the Order members filtering into the kitchen said it? Snape could not have agreed to resume making Wolfsbane Potion.

"Right then," said Tonks crisply. "Thanks, Severus, I'll be in contact."

She'd done it. Tonks had talked Snape into it. No doubt she had agreed to pay for his services; there was no way Snape would do it free of charge, not for Remus, not after more than twenty years of bad blood between them, including the most recent events that had led to Remus' resignation from Hogwarts.

"Get Auntie quiet?" Tonks asked, approaching from behind. She slipped her hand into his, but Remus did not close his fingers around it. Stiffening, she stepped back from him and asked, "Did you listen in?"

Remus' stomach twisted with guilt, not because she looked at him accusatorially; she looked…disappointed.

"I didn't mean to," he said. "I'm sorry. But Tonks, while I do appreciate your concern about my potion, I don't need Severus to brew—"

"You shouldn't make assumptions based on bits and pieces of overheard conversations, Remus."

Relief smoothed her features as she resumed the seat in which she'd sat earlier and began putting her quill and scrolls and notebooks into a red messenger bag slung over the back of her chair.

"I don't need you to fight my battles," said Remus quietly, sitting next to her. "Especially not ones I've given up."

"I didn't fight your battle," Tonks said.

Across the table, Sirius said sulkily, "Why would anyone fight for you when you never fight for anyone else?"

"That's not fair," Tonks said, looking far more perturbed with her cousin than she had been with Snape.

"Isn't it?" Sirius returned.

Noting the raised eyebrows of others coming to the table, and Snape's self-satisfied sneer as he skulked in the corner, Remus intervened, "Now is not the time to discuss it."


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

Remus made sure he maintained a mild expression as he kept the minutes for the Order meeting. His script was rather darker and less meticulous than usual from pushing his quill too hard and too quickly across the parchment, but that was the only indication that he was livid. In his peripheral he saw Sirius wearing his indignation for all the world to see. He slumped in his chair with arms crossed, jaw clenched , brow furrowed, eyes hard. But what right did _he_ have to sulk? Hewas one who had blindsided his best mate – the one constant person in his months of confinement in the miserable house – with an unjust and untrue attack.

As Order members gave reports and Dumbledore made new assignments, Sirius' expression became increasingly darker and more brooding as he, once again, was passed over. Remus was sure Snape's most recent barb about unlimited leisure time heightened Sirius' feelings of uselessness and restlessness. And while it was, as Tonks said, unfair of Sirius to unleash those frustrations the way he had, Remus could not help but wonder if he could have done anything to make Sirius feel less abandoned.

He determined to deal with Sirius straight away after the meeting, but the instant they were adjourned, Sirius bolted upstairs and Remus was cornered by Mundungus Fletcher, who, ironically enough, thought he might be interested in Wolfsbane Potion imported by very questionable Dutch sources. Ordinarily Dung's aggressive and appalling sales pitch would have been amusing, and Remus would have committed the interview to memory to share with Tonks and Sirius later, but this time his only thought was to get away from the dodgy Order member. When he finally did, he still was not free to find Sirius; others had business to discuss with Remus, and nearly three-quarters of an hour passed before everyone left and he was able to escape the basement kitchen.

Just as he mounted the staircase on the main floor, he met Tonks descending, obviously from Sirius' room. Irritation welled up in him that Tonks had fought another of his battles, but then he noticed how heavily she leaned on the handrail, and the way her shoulders slumped; she was clearly worn out. While Remus appreciated that she would go to such effort on his behalf, he wished she would not.

Stopping on the riser just above him, she said, "Sirius says he's sorry."

"This is between Sirius and me." Remus moved to step around Tonks, but she pressed a light hand to his chest.

"I'm not one to put off making up with a friend," she said, "but Sirius needs more time to cool off, and _you're _tired and edgy. Not a good for sorting things out."

She was right, of course, but that did not make it any less frustrating. Slumping against the wall, Remus sighed heavily and raked his fingers through his hair. It was getting shaggy; Molly had been one of the people to approach him, after him to let her trim it.

"I'm all right," he said. "I should talk to him."

Tonks' forehead creased, and she briefly pressed her lips together in a tight line before saying, "Don't you take responsibility for Sirius. He was completely out of line. You don't have to pretend not to be upset."

The only time Remus had been angrier and more hurt by him was over the infamous full moon prank in which Sirius attempted to lure Snape to the Shrieking Shack. Remus had hit him, and after that a few days of silence passed between them. Two adults ought to be able to resolve their differences rather sooner than that, and without coming to blows, but perhaps they had not changed so very much since Hogwarts days. It certainly would be satisfying to hit Sirius now.

"I feel," he began hoarsely, unable to shake the question of whether he could have been prevented this, "like I am the ineffective prefect again. I've never known what to say when those two go at each other—"

Tonks' hands moved to cup his face. "Don't think about the past, Remus. Tonight you did all the right things. There was nothing you could've said to make that scene turn out any differently."

"If I had been in a better mood from the start, Sirius would have had no reason to think I was against him."

"I admit," Tonks said, hands sliding down to rest on his shoulders, "you're not Mister Sunshine today, but that's got nothing to do with Sirius."

"Thank you." Her unflagging support was suddenly overwhelming, in spite of his preference that she not intervene. "You didn't have to talk to him. Or Snape."

"Of course I did. It's what fellow Order members do."

The realisation that Tonks had not merely acted as an overprotective girlfriend was somewhat soothing to Remus' bruised ego. Tonks would have done the same for any colleague. Kindness and loyalty were her natural attributes.

"You're tense," she observed, fingers working small circles the base of his neck. "Let's go to the drawing room. I'll give you a back rub."

Instead of stepping aside for her to alight from the stairs, Remus took advantage of their matched height by catching her in a tight embrace and pressing his lips to the curve of her neck, just inside her collar.

"What would I do without you?" he murmured against her skin, kissing her again as goose bumps prickled up, making the fine, light hairs stand.

"Brood about Sirius and have sore shoulders, I reckon." Tonks said it lightly, but as he drew back from her he noted she looked quite pleased with herself, which in turn made Remus smile. "But you _have _got me," she said, nudging him to turn and step down, "so there's no point in thinking hypothetically."

Soon Remus wasn't thinking in any fashion, hypothetical or otherwise, apart from the sensations of Tonks' strong hands massaging his muscles. She knew all the places that got sorest. Was it because she'd got used to the way the moon worked over his body? Or did she know from experience which muscles and joints were most affected by change?

Her voice broke into his lackadaisical thoughts. "Why does Severus hate you?"

When Remus reacted by tensing his shoulders, Tonks kneaded harder and urged him to relax. He had a distinct feeling that it would be impossible to do so whilst discussing Snape. Hoping to put her off of the subject, he said flippantly. "I was under the impression Snape hated everyone."

"Not me," Tonks replied. "I've never thought he hated me. He's hateful_ to_ me, but that's not the same, is it?"

Her astuteness came as somewhat of a surprise, not because Remus did not regard Tonks as highly intelligent, but because he was not at all sure that at her age _he_ would have drawn that distinction – especially not in light of the cutting remarks Snape had made about her personal life. Nor was he certain he did now, at least not in practice.

"Well," he said, "Severus _actually _hates Sirius and me."

"Why _you,_ though?" She stopped massaging and leaned over his shoulder to regard his profile. "You're not hostile like Sirius. You don't respond to goading. Severus must have a reason behind cutting so deep. He doesn't bother with everyone."

It was clear that Tonks was not going to let this drop until she got a satisfactory answer, and she would know if he wasn't telling her the whole truth. As Remus considered this, he realised it might be good for her know what a deep-seated grudge Snape carried. The future likely would bring more such altercations as tonight, and Tonks would do well to grasp how fruitless it was to defend Remus to Snape. The only thing holding him back from relating the story was that it was not just about _him_.

Catching her hand, Remus pulled her gently so that she stood in front of his chair. "If I tell you," he said, "you've got to promise not to let it affect how you see Sirius."

"All right," said Tonks, drawing out the words and furrowing her brow.

"It happened a long time ago," Remus went on quickly, "and it is forgiven between us. Sirius honestly never considered how it would affect me if it worked."

Tonks dropped into a crouch and rested her hands on his knees. "If you'd rather not tell me—"

"No. I don't mind you knowing."

He almost regretted telling her when Tonks clutched the worn fabric of his trousers, horrified by Sirius' full moon prank. Part of Remus did appreciate that her vehemence was because he had been used, but if it made her resent Sirius nearly two decades after the fact, for something with which she was not even remotely connected…. She calmed quickly, though, resting her head on Remus' legs as he stroked her hair.

"I still don't understand why Severus hates _you,_" said Tonks when he finished the story. "You weren't in on it. He can't have thought you wanted to…"

"…bite him," Remus finished for her, unable to meet her gaze. How could she stand to hear about the wolfish side of him? "Severus had no reason to think otherwise. I seldom stopped Sirius from bullying him, and I cast my share of insults."

As he spoke, his hands drifted down from her head to her back. Around her shoulder blades, her muscles balled into knots. This night had been a tense one for her, and it had been preceded by a physically demanding workday.

Leaning over her, he murmured, "Let me massage _you_."

Without hesitation, Tonks sat up and turned her back to him. Her head lolled forward as he rubbed and kneaded, and Remus was glad he had thought to do this. Tonks needed it, and he enjoyed doing it for her. The combination of her slender frame beneath his hands and her deep sighs and throaty moans drove their conversation out of his mind.

"You've got great hands, Remus," she said, voice thick with pleasure. "D'you think Snape's jealous of you?"

Her abrupt return to the topic was disorienting, especially as Remus was disinclined to return to it. Grinning moronically at the implication of her first statement, he said, "Of my _great_ hands?

Tonks gave a snort of laughter, but then turned and looked at him. "Seriously."

Remus sighed as his hands slid away from her. "For all Severus is fascinated with the Dark Arts," he said, "he harbours a particular disdain for Dark _Creatures_. He seems to take considerable pleasure in my fate as such."

"Yet you held the post he's always wanted."

"Only for a year."

"That's longer than he'll hope to have it," Tonks argued. "And you've got friends, and you've got me."

Strange as it was to think of anyone envying _his_ life, Tonks did have a point. He had always thought Snape's hatred of James had been rooted in jealousy about James'Quidditch skills, popularity, and at times, his success with Lily. But Tonks' last comment gave Remus a jolt. Did she mean jealous that he had a girlfriend at all, or jealous that his girlfriend was Tonks, specifically?

Thankfully, Tonks distracted him from that rather disturbing train of thought. Gently prising his knees apart, she slipped between his legs. Who _wouldn't _envy him this curvy female body pressed close, these small hands splayed firmly against his back, this cheek buried in his jumper?

"I just hate that you've got to put up with him," she said softly.

"I don't care about Snape's opinion of me."

Remus' voice was tight and sounded less convincing than he would have liked. The particular aspects of their relationship upon which Snape had commented had crossed Remus' mind before. Had they occurred to Tonks? Unfortunately, Snape's attitude was not unique in the Wizarding world, and was likely the prevalent one among the Ministry crowd with which Tonks operated. As Voldemort strengthened and gained more followers, suspicions would intensify. They needed to address these issues on their own before others forced them.

"He's so cruel," Tonks said.

"You were very calm when you responded to him," Remus tentatively broached the subject.

Tonks raised her head, revealing an ear-to-ear grin. "You probably expected me to fly into a mad rage and hex him. Aren't you proud of me?"

"I am." Remus leant in and kissed her lightly. "Very. But I've got to ask, did it bother you, what he said about me?"

Her bright eyes clouded. "I don't like to hear anyone talk about you that way – especially not people on our side." With a defiant toss of her head, she said, "I thought Severus was smart enough not to buy into Umbridge's ridiculous prejudices."

"His prejudices go back further than Umbridge's anti-werewolf legislation."

"I don't care what he thinks," she said firmly. "I didn't take any of it to heart."

Her loyalty was predictable and Remus could not help but smile. Yet he wondered if she really understood what he was hinting. He would have to be more direct. Drawing a deep breath, he asked, "Doesn't it give you pause about our relationship to know that people see us and think I'm taking advantage of you?"

"No one who matters thinks that." Mischief tinged Tonks' expression as she said, "You're so concerned that people not think you're using me that you won't even let me buy you a birthday present."

"This isn't about my birthday."

"It is, sort of." Impatience crept into her tone. "Just because you're a werewolf doesn't mean you don't deserve the things I'd give you if you weren't."

"You want to give me different things, though." Remus' thoughts turned to the whispered conversation he'd overheard between Tonks and Snape. "If you didn't ask Severus to make the potion, what—"

Tonks moved back defensively. "I didn't."

"I know." Remus reached for her. "What _did _you talk to him about?"

As Tonks stood and looked down on him, her eyes darkened to black. "D'you trust me, Remus?"

After a slight hesitation, he nodded.

"Right then," said Tonks. "I'm knackered, so I think I'll be getting back to mine."

Instantly chagrined and not about to let another person he cared about go to bed angry and hurt, Remus rose from his chair. "You don't have to go." He took her hands. "I've been a prat, I know, but—"

Pulling one hand free, Tonks pressed her fingertips to his lips. "I'm not leaving because you've been a prat. I've put up with worse from you."

Remus' chest constricted with a pang of guilt that she had.

Smiling slightly, Tonks said, "Believe it or not, I'm really tired, and I've still got a sodding mountain of paperwork."

He had forgotten. He kissed her fingers, then leaned his forehead against hers as his hands slid around her waist. "I'm sorry."

"S'okay."

Tonks tilted her head upward, and her lips were soft and languid on his, gently coaxing away his agitation. However, Remus knew that as soon she was gone and he was left alone in the gloomy old house with a friend from whom temporarily estranged, his brooding mood would return. He kissed her more insistently. Tonks made a surprised sound against his mouth, which turned into a pleased sigh as she responded.

Too soon, she pulled back, neck and cheeks flushed. "Keep that up," she said breathlessly, "and I'll never leave."

"I don't want you to." Remus dipped his head and hovered just above her mouth, arms tightening around her. "I've got duty tomorrow, and you have the next. I don't like days I don't get to see you."

"We'll be together on your birthday."

"That's three days from now."

She turned her head as he bent to kiss her again. "I'd love to stay, really I would, but I don't think Scrimgeour will accept snogging as an excuse for not handing in my paperwork."

"Perhaps if you told him your werewolf ate it?"

Tonks laughed, then dragged her fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp, as she leaned in for one more quick kiss. "That's the mood I want you to have on your birthday, all right? I know it's moon week–"

"I'll try," he said. "But please don't go to a great deal of trouble. No gifts."

"Thanks for reminding me," said Tonks dryly, sliding out of his arms and moving to the door. "I'd forgot, even though I just mentioned it."

"Sarcastically," said Remus as he followed her downstairs to the kitchen, where she had left her belongings. "I'm sorry, it's just—"

"I think you've forgot the elaborate surprise candlelight dinner you arranged for me. You can't expect me not to return the favour."

The assertive manner in which she slung her bag over her shoulder made Remus refrain from arguing with her again.

"Night, Remus. Take care."

He caught her hand. "I'll walk you out."

Immediately Tonks softened, and she stretched up to peck his cheek. "That's what I like about you, Remus. Even when you're a grump, you're still a gentleman."

"And being a gentleman covers a multitude of sins?"

"Absolutely."

When she had Disapparated and Remus trudged back inside twelve Grimmauld Place to brood, he was glad to at least have that one thing going for him.


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

"So," said Tonks, "is your mood improving, or do I need to cast a cheering charm on you?"

Beside her on the settee, Remus gaped, fork suspended part way to his mouth. "Haven't I been cheerful?"

Tonks took a bite of her own cake, but did not finish chewing before she said, "When I opened my door, you were standing there looking like you'd got Trolls on all your OWLs."

At the comment, Remus' mind took him back nearly two years to the third year students' Defence Against Dark Arts examination, during which Hermione Granger's boggart appeared as Professor McGonagall and told the girl she had failed everything. He laughed aloud, startling Tonks so that she nearly upset her plate.

"Have you gone mad?" she asked, looking like she really thought he had.

"Sorry," said Remus, still chuckling as he recalled the sheer horror on Hermione's face. How difficult it had been to restrain his laughter until after the test, when he was ensconced in the privacy of his office. "I just remembered a highly amusing incident from my year teaching at Hogwarts."

"Care to share?"

"I'd love to, but I fear it would be in violation of student-professor confidentiality."

A pouty expression flitted across Tonks' face, and she was so cute that Remus nearly threw confidentiality to the wind. Thankfully for his conscience, she waved her fork airily and said, "Keep your secrets, then, as long as they put you in a good mood."

"I'm in a good mood, really," Remus assured her. "I apologise if I did not seem to be when I arrived." Leaning his head against hers, he sighed heavily. "It has been a long week, and just before I came over Sirius was moping again."

"I thought the pair of you made up?" Tonks had owled him the day after the Order meeting to check up on the situation between them.

"We did." Remus straightened up and ate the bite of cake he had abandoned. "But you know how men make up. "

"Not really."

Remus took a long drink of Molly's elderflower wine as he contemplated the sexes. Really now, Tonks might not have a good deal of first-hand knowledge of how male friends worked out their problems, but surely she knew him and Sirius well enough by now not to have expected them to have a great conversation.

"When Sirius came down to breakfast," he said, "I told him he was so out of line that if the Order had not been present, I would have hit him."

"Would you have done?" Tonks' eyes were wide.

Shrugging, Remus finished off his cake. "He said I could do it then if I wanted, to which I replied that it was too close to full moon for me to manage a good punch, so he offered to let me hex him instead."

"But I assume you didn't?" Tonks asked as Remus drank.

"I wasn't in the mood anymore."

"And that was it?"

"And that was it." Remus set his empty plate and goblet on the coffee table. "Sirius went back to brooding about other things."

"Snape?"

"He han't been very talkative. Except right before I left to come here, he acted rather envious that I had someplace to go tonight."

"We should've done this at number twelve," said Tonks in guilty tones, forehead crinkling as she frowned. "He feels left out. D'you reckon we should go over in a bit?"

Stretching his arm across the back of the settee, Remus said with as much tact as he could muster, "I think it's more that he envies me having a _girl_ to be with."

"In which case he'd only feel like a third Beater if we were around?"

"I asked if he would like us to stay with him, and he told me rather crossly I'd better take advantage of my opportunity to snog."

Tonks gave a snort of laughter. "Your words, or his?"

"His."

It was an emendation; Sirius had _actually_ told him to take advantage of the opportunity to shag. Tonks, however, did not need to know that, especially as Remus had no desire to explain to her why he had not set Sirius straight about where they were in their physical relationship. If Sirius knew they had not taken that step, Remus would never hear the end of it.

"Well, don't worry about Sirius for now," said Tonks. "Here." She scooped a bit of cake onto her fork and brought it to his mouth. "You need more chocolate."

Remus dutifully chewed and swallowed, and although the idea of being fed by Tonks was delicious, his stomach, having digested two large pieces and a sliver of a third, protested.

"I've had quite enough cake tonight," he said, "and I promise, my spirits are buoyed."

Tonks eyed him sceptically as she set her plate on top of his. The look made Remus suddenly suspicious of her concern about his happiness. But that was ridiculous. Of course she wanted him to be in a good mood. It was his birthday. And for her part, she had put up with more than her fair share of grouchiness three nights ago.

Drawing her legs onto the settee and tucking them underneath her, Tonks curled into the crook of his arm. "I read a Muggle magazine once that said chocolate's got something in it that causes a sense of euphoria. Endorsements? Endocrines?"

"Endorphins," Remus corrected, chuckling.

Colouring slightly, Tonks said, "I sound a bit like Arthur, don't I?"

"How do Muggles light their homes?"

Quickly morphing to look like a member of the Weasley family, Tonks replied, "Eckeltricity."

She changed back to herself, and they laughed much longer over the joke than it really merited. They were overdue for a bit of silliness. It felt good and refreshing, energising even, to laugh.

"Is it true about the endorphins?" Tonks asked as their mirth trailed away. "Or is it something magical the Muggles have got hold of?"

"I really could not tell you," Remus replied, "but if anything is the cause of my present euphoria…" He slid his other arm across to embrace her "…it's you."

Tonks' expression softened into a romantic one. "And we haven't even snogged yet."

"Shall we commence?" He nuzzled her soft cheek.

Tonks touched her lips to his for a fraction of a second, then disentangled herself from his arms. She staggered to her feet, snatched her wand from the side table, and waved it in the direction of the open door of her bedroom. "_Accio _cauldron."

"Cauldron?" Remus blinked as a black metal pot floated through the door and over his head. "Why, in Merlin's name, are you summoning a _cauldron_?"

He understood as the iron weight settled in his lap, a blue ribbon tied around it; his earlier suspicion about why Tonks was so concerned about his mood suddenly made sense.

"Tonks," he said slowly, clinging to the vestiges of his good feelings, "we agreed—"

"This isn't a present," she interrupted. "It's _my_ stuff. I just want to show you."

Glancing inside, he noted various bags and bottles and phials. "Why can't potion ingredients wait until after—?"

"See what they are." She nodded to the cauldron.

Remus did, but being rubbish with potions, he had no idea what they were for until he drew out the last phial, labelled Wolfsbane.

"Tonks, what…?"

"I'm going to brew it for you," she said.

His heart turned to lead and dropped into his stomach. Snape had twitted Tonks about not being useful to her boyfriend, and in turn she joked that, in light of her paperwork, she would rather be a potion brewer than an Auror. Could Snape have got to her? Did she really think Remus needed her to do something for him? Why had he complained about his inferior Wolfsbane Potion? He should have known Tonks would be dissatisfied with that. He could not let her do this. She did not realise what brewing this potion entailed. But how could he tell her? She watched him intently, wide-eyed and managing to look simultaneously pleased with herself and anxious about his reaction.

"This is a beautiful gesture, sweetheart," he said honestly, setting aside the cauldron and leaning forward to take her hands, "but if licensed apothecaries cannot even brew it properly—"

"But remember, Remus," she said, "Severus says none of _them_ could pass his NEWT class. I did."

"As one who scraped a Dreadful on my OWLs after five years with Horace Slughorn – who I imagine was nowhere near as demanding as Severus," said Remus, "I've nothing but the utmost respect for your proficiency. Even so, Wolfsbane is an extremely complex potion. It requires a great deal of time and patience to learn, Tonks, and you are already—"

"I can be very patient when I set my mind to be."

Her eyes held a knowing look, and Remus could not deny the truth of the statement. She had the patience of a saint when it came to their relationship.

"I was talking more about the number of hours in the day," he said. "Your schedule is quite full enough without spending time dabbling with potions I can buy for my—"

Speech failed him as Tonks suddenly slid onto the settee, straddling his lap.

"I like giving my time to you," she said sweetly.

Remus could not deny how deeply touched he was. No one had done anything like this for him since James and Sirius told him they were going to learn how to become Animagi so he would not have to transform alone. He had resisted them initially, too, but they never backed down – as Tonks clearly was not going to do, either.

And Merlin, as much as his mates had meant to him, that a _woman _was offering so much filled places in his heart he had never known were empty. Tonks' nearness – her thighs pressed on either side of his, her curves so near, her adorable face leaning over his, lips parted – was heady.

He had barely brushed his mouth across hers when she drew back too soon.

"Actually," Tonks said, biting her lip in chagrin, "I'll be giving my time to Severus."

The statement had the same effect as being dowsed with cold water. "I beg your pardon?"

"He's going to tutor me. That's what I talked to him about before the meeting."

Remus blinked. She had to be joking.

"I think that's partly why he agreed," she went on. "The time."

"I'm not sure I follow you."

Remus was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Tonks was perfectly serious, that she had convinced _Severus Snape_ to tutor her in the art of brewing one of the most difficult of all potions. _How?_ A thought Tonks had planted in his mind during their previous conversation sprouted into a horrifyingly real possibility. Dear Merlin, did Snape…He could not finish the thought.

"I got an idea," said Tonks, "That he thinks it'll drive you mad for me to spend time with him."

Yes, that would indeed be maddening, but at least that sounded more like Snape. Remus could deal with the arrangement if Snape's motivation for helping Tonks was an act of spite toward an old nemesis. It did not mean what Remus first thought.

Tilting her head toward his, Tonks waggled her eyebrows and said conspiratorially, "I plan to schedule my tutoring sessions to coincide with your assignments – times we wouldn't be together anyway."

Though her slyness made him chuckle, Remus said, "But many times we have the same assignments."

"We'll make time for each other, like we always do."

He smiled softly. She had foreseen every possible objection and covered her tracks.

"It _will _drive me mad, you know," said Remus, "to think about him talking to you the way he does." Palms itching, he thought darkly how he despised the way Snape said her name.

"Well don't let on," said Tonks, looking slightly amused. "I don't want to give him that satisfaction. And his attitude's a small price to pay to learn to do this for you."

She leaned forward, and Remus could not contain a low sound of pleasure as her lips traced his, her body moving against him. His hands settled low on her back, fingers just skimming under the hem of her shirt to stroke her smooth skin.

This time, it was he who broke their kiss abruptly, her words "price" and "pay" ringing in his head, dredging up bits of past conversations about being a freeloader and Tonks' usefulness to him.

"It's too much, Tonks," he said. "The brew I purchase is much better than not having the potion at all."

"But why shouldn't you have the _best_, if you can?" Tonks asked. "Why shouldn't I try to brew it? I might not succeed, but what's the harm in trying?"

"There's no harm," Remus conceded, but he was unable to meet her gaze. "But if you insist on going ahead with this—"

"I do."

"—then will you let me at least pay you for the ingredients."

After a moment of silence, during which Remus feared he had infuriated her to speechlessness, she startled him by saying patiently, as though to a child, "D'you ask Molly to let you pay for the flour when she bakes you a cake, or yarn when she knits you jumpers?"

For a moment Remus sat dumbfounded, feeling as though the analogy had somehow knocked the wind out of him. "I'd be daft to offer."

"What d'you call it when you try it on your _girlfriend_?"

"Risking decapitation."

The corners of Tonks' lips twitched. "That's how I'd describe it."

Remus drew depth breaths and looked everywhere but at her as he scrabbled about for a way out of the hole he'd dug for himself. "This is rather like a birthday present, then, isn't it?"

"Yes, Remus," said Tonks, rolling her eyes in a way that made the hole deeper, "it's rather like a birthday present. It'll probably be your next birthday before you actually get any use of it, though. And I'm not the only one who violated your no gift policy."

"Sirius got me a subscription to a journal I used to take." Remus found himself unable to say it with annoyance; the prospect of spending Sunday afternoons poring over articles by the Wizarding world's most respected scholars was too appealing.

"You're a brilliant wizard, Remus," Tonks said softly, stroking his hair back from his face. "When will you stop being so bloody idiotic about things like presents? Your friends don't do nice things because they feel sorry for you. We do them because we _like _you."

"But I can't—"

"—return the favours monetarily," she finished for him, still in that gentle tone. Callused fingertips traced his cheek, his neck, his ear. "You _do_ return them, in ways money can't buy. We're really the ones returning the favours, y'know. Magazines and potions don't go nearly far enough for all you do."

He could almost believe her. She was looking at him with such tenderness, with sincerity that almost made him feel worthy and deserving of the things he tried to give others. Her dark eyes touched him; he felt them inside, caressing like velvet. And then they sparkled mischievously, and Tonks squirmed on his lap as though to stave off a bout of giggles – and Remus staved off other feelings of a less innocent nature.

"Anyway," Tonks went on, "I'd never dream of accepting payment for something that could poison you. Which," she added with a smirk, "Severus rather glibly pointed out was one of the risks involved in learning to brew the potion."

"Glib hardly seems an appropriate adjective for Severus."

"Oh, it's appropriate, believe me. In fact, I'm sure that's what ultimately convinced him to help me – the possibility that I'll accidentally murder you."

"Yes." Staring vacantly at the cauldron full of potion ingredients, Remus imagined the conversation between them. "I _can_ see him glib with that prospect."

Expression suddenly serious, and as different as if she had morphed her face, Tonks said softly, "You're such a giver, Remus. But if you don't learn to take sometimes, you'll run out of things to give."

He let his hands slide up her back to lace through the hair at the nape of her neck, and he became lost in her dark eyes, surrounded by the longest lashes he'd ever seen. Merlin – she looked as if she felt for him what he felt for her.

"Thank you," he murmured, and kissed her forehead. "You're wonderful." His lips trailed to her temple. "Absolutely wonderful, and I adore you." He kissed her cheek, then dragged his mouth to hers, pausing only to murmur her name against her lips.

He had not used her Christian name intentionally. It slipped out, and when she pulled away to look into his eyes, he half-expected her to scold him, or not to have taken him seriously. But she cupped his face and smiled in a way that made him hook his arms underneath her and pull her as close to him as he could.

"You even make my name feel adorable and wonderful," she said dreamily – and the thought that he could possibly make her like something about herself she never had before was thrilling.

Then, as if it struck her that she had opened a door, she quirked a brow and added, "That doesn't mean you've got permission to use it."

"I won't, unless you tell me I may." Voice dropping to a teasingly low pitch, he added, "_Nymphadora_."

Tonks must have liked the way he said it, because she only laughed softly and briefly before she brought his mouth to hers once again. And as he kissed her, Remus determined to express the gratitude he could not put into words for all the good she was brewing for his life.

_The End_


End file.
